


Bedroom Talk

by stuckinabottle



Series: Bedroom Talk [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Implied Cheating, Light Angst, M/M, Porn With Plot, Promiscuity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:26:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuckinabottle/pseuds/stuckinabottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry likes to be loved and Zayn likes sex. It's that simple really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedroom Talk

**Author's Note:**

> This was a midnight drabble that turned into a 1000 word challenge for myself to write a sex scene that wasn't about the sex.  
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

Harry likes to be loved and Zayn likes sex. It's that simple really.

 

So when Harry pauses abruptly mid thrust, after meeting Zayn's own, Zayn is a little miffed. More than a little, actually.

 

"So I've been thinking," Harry starts, the idea is just beyond his grasp, off the tip of his tongue. 

 

"Have you now," Zayn's voice is strangled. The veins in his neck are straining, more from restraint than anything. Harry has got his hands, palms down firmly on Zayn's chest, ceasing any and all motion. His weight is settled, pinning Zayn in place. Harry has grown much stronger lately, his biceps hardly flexing, as he holds Zayn still. Sometime he thinks about how he could easily break Zayn, who is wiry at best, too skinny, too gaunt.

 

"I think we should take a break." Harry then rolls his hips, and lets out a long keening moan. Zayn's traitorous hips can't help but stutter upwards. 

 

"And you thought now would be the best time to bring this up?" Zayn punctuated each staccato word with a sharp jerk of his pelvis. Harry clenches around him and rocks in perfect synchrony. 

 

Harry groans throatily and palms at himself clumsily. Zayn lends him a hand. He does a sloppy job, but soon they are both giving in to the white heat and that dark sort of prickle that follows. Harry collapses on top of Zayn and sort of hugs him close. Zayn’s chest lifts and falls settling into a steady rhythm. Harry presses a chaste kiss to Zayn’s clavicle, then rests his cheek on his pectoral.

 

After catching his breath, Harry rolls of Zayn and off the bed, pads to the bathroom. He washes up and returns to find Zayn lighting up a cigarette. He did not even bother to go outside on the balcony; Zayn is still stark nude, leaning against the headboard.

 

Harry does not talk, just sort of flops back onto to the bed and lies on his stomach. He props his chin up on his folded arms and watches. Zayn looks tense, all sharp right angles and bones. He takes a long drag, and the smoke puffs out from his parted lips, a dark grey cloud. It dissipates, and hazes through the room. 

 

"What I said earlier," Harry begins but doesn't finish. He is not sure what he can say. Or what he meant to say. Zayn is not listening, his eyes are closed, cheeks hollowed as he inhales deeply. Harry dislikes the smell, wrinkles his nose at the tangy, cloying nicotine Zayn blows in his direction.

 

Harry rolls onto his back. He folds his hands over his stomach and just stares at then ceiling. He is drowsy, but he still holds onto the lingering feeling of post-coital bliss. He revels in it. The oxytocin always speaks to Harry. Beckons him, makes him feel invincible. He thinks this is what love must feel like. All the sharp inhales and exhales, the thudding heart beat, and the sort of mercurial feeling in his gut. He lives and thrives right on the edge of giddiness and despair.

 

"Do you want to cuddle?" the questions gallops from Harry’s mouth before he can stop it. Harry looks up at Zayn from his reclined position, upside down. Zayn does not respond. Instead he stubs his unfinished cigarette into an ashtray violently. His movements are jerky, abrupt and awkward. Harry just stares.

 

"Are you mad?" Harry asks, growing slightly wary. Zayn gets out of the bed, coughing slightly. He wipes his mouth with a hand.  

 

"No." Zayn is bending over pulling on his pants now. Harry swallows the urge to run his fingers over each notch in Zayn's back. Over each rib that pokes out. His knobby, skinny knees.

 

"Where are you going?" Harry sits up, folds his legs into himself. Zayn shrugs his shoulders, still only wearing his pants, which Harry recognizes as previously his own. Zayn's posture is rigid, unwelcoming.

 

"What I said earlier--"

 

"No, I heard you clearly." Zayn dutifully picks up his clothes, littered about on the carpet. His back is towards Harry the entire time. Harry represses his impulse to leap from the bed, hug Zayn and kiss the back of his neck.

 

"I..." Harry falters.

 

"What do you want Harry? Because I’m not sure I get it." Zayn spits out. He sounds bitter almost. Mostly tired though. 

 

"You," Harry whispers under his breath, almost as a question really. It falls short before his face as Zayn just laughs. It is a harsh sounding laugh. Like dragging broken glass over metal.

 

"I think we both know best." Zayn shakes his head. His clothes are bunched in one hand, he runs through his mussed hair with the other. Harry feels like an idiot. Zayn makes Harry feel like a fool. Harry knows what they have is ephemeral. A transient exchange of fluids and thermal energy, but not feelings. Harry knows all this. Yet. He cannot help himself. He wants to consume all of Zayn, down to the last eyelash.

 

"Just come back to bed, we can talk about in the morning," Harry pleads. His voice is thin. It lacks vigor. Zayn laughs, the same laugh. But he does sit down on the edge of the bed. His weight is welcome on the bed, dipping it slightly. His clothes are soon discarded on the floor again. Harry inadvertently sidles closer to him, a heat seeking missile.

 

Zayn edges himself towards Harry. He lays a hand in Harry's rumpled hair and ruffles it slightly. Harry gapes at him in something like surprise. But he cannot think of anything to say. Zayn rolls Harry onto his side and throws an arm around his midsection. His hand rubs gently, a soothing pattern on Harry’s abdomen. Harry almost purrs in contentment and fits himself in Zayn’s embrace as best as his lanky body can. Zayn hums behind him, reverberating slightly, the vibrations tickle Harry.

 

"You always get what you want, isn't that right, Haz?" 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Phew. First sex scene I've written, hope it's not too bad. :)


End file.
